


Illogical

by GENERAL_KENOBI22



Category: Greek
Genre: F/M, Unpopular pairing, Unrequited Crush, s2ep3 Gays Ghosts & Gamma Rays Revisited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2886788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GENERAL_KENOBI22/pseuds/GENERAL_KENOBI22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's ridiculous, but he can't shake the underlying feeling that she might be the Rose Tyler to his Doctor. Or, the shopping scene from 2x03 "Gay, Ghosts, and Gamma Rays" from Max's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illogical

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this initially during the height of my obsession with "Greek," but also during Season 2 when Cappie was starting to grate on my nerves for one reason or another. I always liked nerdy, surprisingly hunky RA Max, and I thought he and Casey were a great pairing. I was never involved much with Greek fandom (if that was even a thing?) to get a sense of whether or not there was any momentum behind this coupling, but I'm at Rebecca Logan levels of caring at this stage of my life. Thanks for taking the time to read!

When he thinks about it, he comes to the conclusion that none of this would have happened were it not for his illogical craving for something salty.

That all encumbering desire for pretzels was the sole reason he happened to be out of his room in the first place. Normally, he reserved Tuesdays for catching up on his physics readings and occasionally browsing the fansites dedicated to J.J. Abrams _Star Trek_ remake. But on this particular Tuesday, he just _happened_ to crave pretzels, and the vending machine just _happened_ to be located at the other end of the hall, which meant he had to pass Rusty's room, and when he did, he just _happened_ to remember the note Rusty left on his door, so obviously he had to mention it. And then because he's Max, it was obligatory that he embarrass himself completely in front of two attractive girls, one of which just _happened_ to be Rusty's sister, who "sounds terrible."

Of course.

"Hey, thanks for including me in on the deal," Rusty says, the gratitude obvious in his voice alone. "I love my sister, but when I try to explain anything to her, it's like we're like . . . polystyrene and polybutadiene."

He nods his head in understanding. "Hmm . . . more like polyurenal chloride and polyurethane."

"No wonder you work for NASA," Rusty says with a smile, that Max guesses is supposed to be reassuring, but ends up making him feel even worse.

It's odd to him that now, as he stands there awkwardly, his palms slightly damp, he should be surrounded by this foreign blend of Sorority girls and pleated pants and fitted suit coats with one of the guys on his floor. When he thinks about the likeliness of him being in this situation ever, let alone now, the odds are definitely not in his favor. Yet, there he stands as Rusty's sister—Casey, he's got to remember that—holds up various articles of clothing to his chest, her knuckles lightly brushing his chest every so often, discussing colors, cuts, and other various details with her talkative friend. It's like being in a foreign language film without subtitles. And the foreign language, he thinks to himself silently, is Girlish. At least Klingon he would have understood. Or Latin.

Casey and her friend leave momentarily to go find something or other, and he finally feels like he can breathe correctly again, which is odd because he didn't recognize any difficulties breathing beforehand.

"So sorry for Case; she's so annoying. Just roll with it."

"Nah," he shrugs noncommittally, still slightly bewildered by the entire situation. He hasn't been shopping, let alone shopping with girls, in a long time. And it's . . . abnormal, and-and slightly uncomfortable which causes him to harbor this illogically overwhelming sense of dread, "don't worry about it."

Because, when Max really thinks about it, he realizes that the catalyst for this situation had nothing to do with salty snacks and everything to do with Rusty. He never would have been involved had Rusty not left that note on his door, and had Rusty not convinced him in the end with ten percent of the winnings. Plus, it wasn't as if he could have said no to those girls. Especially since one of them was Rusty's sister. Not that he and Rusty were good friends or anything like that, but it just seemed like the chivalrous thing to do.

So really, none of this would have happened were it not for Rusty's lack of an automobile and his abundant sociability.

"Try these on," Rusty's sister—Casey—orders, handing him a pair of pants that match the suit coat she gave to him earlier. The green of her top matches the color of his bowtie they selected.

It takes him a minute or two to fully grasp what she just asked him to do. And no amount of swallowing can get rid of the bubbling panic in his throat.

"Uh, right here?" he wonders aloud, forcing himself to laugh slightly, just in case this is some kind of joke. Although, if she knew how much he feared public nudity—much less, nudity in general, let alone nudity in front of other girls—he's pretty certain she would not be joking in the first place.

"Yeah, just put them on over your cargo shorts," she elaborates, as if it's not a huge deal. For someone like her, though, he supposes changing before P.E. was not an issue she ever had to deal with.

"Really?" he asks fearfully without thinking, and this time he swears he can hear his voice squeak for just a second. That hasn't happened since puberty, and the fact that it has right now, in front of these two unrealistically attractive sorority girls and some guy from his hall, is morbidly embarrassing.

"Yeah, trust me, Max," Rusty interjects, as puts on a brown jacket, "resistance is futile."

Inwardly, he scoffs. As if he is resisting this of his own accord. Unfortunately, he has passed the point of no return, and he knows he can't turn back. So, with all the resolve he can gather, he ignores all of his insecurities, and awkwardly puts the pants on over his shorts. Rusty's sister watches him as he does so, which makes it that much worse. Other than a mild panic attack, he thinks he's going to be okay.

"Ooh, yeah!" she declares excitedly as her talkative friend hands her the jacket he was previously holding. "Let's just see if this jacket matches."

He is not prepared at all when she begins putting the jacket on him. One sleeve on, she reaches around him, her body flush against his, her arm around his neck. He turns his head awkwardly in the other direction until she manages to get his arm in the other sleeve, and normally, it would have been embarrassing being dressed by someone else at his age, but he doesn't think she's trying to be condescending. In fact, he even gets the impression that she might like him. As-As a homo sapien, a human being.

It's ridiculous, but he can't shake the underlying feeling that she just might be the Rose Tyler to his Doctor. It's an illogical conclusion, he knows this. He took a logic course his freshman year at Cyprus Rhode, after all. And he's not that much of a geek to think that he's a member of the Time Lord race. At least . . . not anymore anyway.

But something about the proximity of her body to his or the faint scent of her hair (gardenias, by the way) makes his brain short out to the point where he can barely remember basic motor skills, let alone that there's anyone else in the room besides the two of them. It would be nice if he wasn't thirty-four percent sure he might possibly be drooling right now. Or something worse, like telepathically listing off the numbers in Hurley's winning lottery ticket on _Lost_. Which usually helps him calm down when he's nervous, but is of absolutely no help at the current moment.

"There you are," Rusty's si—Casey states after she straightens his lapels. He prays that she can't feel his heart figuratively slamming against his rib cage, though it seems unlikely judging by how close she is standing to him. He's torn between wanting her to stay this close and wanting her to back away so he can breathe easier. He feels like he's suffocating, but it very well could be the sweetest suffocation known to man in all of human history.

"Snazzy," she finally decides.

He's torn from his mental ramblings, and at first he thinks she is using some modern girl slang as a way of expressing exclamation. But then he realizes that she's smiling widely and referencing him in his suit. His palms begin sweating even more, and he is entirely unaware of what the appropriate response in a situation like this is. So he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, which is, " _Me_?"

If possible, her smile gets even wider, and she giggles. "Mm-hmm," she nods, before searching for her talkative friend and brother.

It's not possible that his heart starts beating even faster, or that he actually feels _happy_ , or that he thinks that this fraternity party might actually be _fun_. Seriously, it's not possible. And yet, somehow, defying every act of physics, every law of nature, he is somehow in this state of impossibility. And it's weird, true, but it's also kind of nice.

And now that he thinks about it again, it occurs to him that the catalyst for the entire situation has nothing to do with Rusty and everything to do with his sis—Casey. While it may have been Rusty that tried to convince him with percentages and obligations, it was Casey that ultimately sealed the deal. Something about her eyes, her smile, and her hair caused his overactive sense of chivalry to go into overdrive. Plus, there was her slight resemblance to Rose Tyler. And just the thought of her being upset made him feel vastly uncomfortable.

So, yes, none of this would have happened were it not for Casey and _Doctor Who_.

Which, again, is entirely illogical, but ultimately, Max decides, it really doesn't matter.

Instead, in his heightened mood, he goes in search of those pretzels he never ended up getting in the first place.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on FFN on January 3, 2009.


End file.
